wardenraime
patreon
1225 - Triumph Before the Games
🕑 Added 2025-05-19 15:00:12 +0000 UTCThe entire Artor Valley shook like the Nexus itself was tearing itself apart twenty thousand years early, but rather than Reconstitution, it was the roar of Artorion’s people that caused the tremors. Thousands of their warriors had returned home, carried upon the arks that now circled over the city’s many streets and plazas. They brought with them victory, adding four more planes to Leon’s Kingdom during the final phase of the campaign, the glory of which Leon had already been told was inspiring many young, ambitious inhabitants of his Kingdom to sign up for his central army.
These returning warriors marched through the streets to the adoring roar of the crowd, enduring the floral bombardment and amorous assault of their friends and family with all the grace and dignity that Leone expected of returning warriors—none at all. They shouted and roared along with the people, many shouting the details of their glorious deeds to anyone who would listen and snatching their significant others from the crowd as they passed and making displays of their affection for all to see.
Above, their arks followed their slow progress through the city, occasionally letting off magical blasts that filled the air with sparks and bright color, while the most powerful of the armada did their best to keep them moving. Thankfully, only a few grew so rowdy that they were a problem, and Leon was inclined to indulge his warriors in this celebration, given what many had given up throughout the campaign. Thirteen entire planes had been added to his Kingdom over the entire campaign, and he’d played too small a role for him to take too much pride in.
Leon himself waited for them at the King’s Forum, an enormous square close to Perch Fortress, the tall, tower-like fortification that controlled ground access to Westmount. It was the largest square in Artorion, and the only one large enough to hold this new ceremony in. The returning warriors hadn’t yet arrived, however, leaving Leon to wait with a large party of the leading men and women in his Kingdom at his side.
Iron-Striker cut the most imposing figure, standing ramrod straight even after more than an hour of waiting for the procession’s arrival. He wore simple Bear red, and much like Leon’s simple silver and blue ensemble, he didn’t weigh himself down with jewelry, cloaks, ribbons, or any other signs of his high station, save for a single pin on his lapel in the shape of a diving raptor that signified his allegiance to Leon’s Kingdom.
Behind the Chancellor stood dozens of Tribal elders, including the Jaguar, Ipatameni, Singer-in-Caves, Menander, and Solomon. Hundreds of Clan Chiefs stood behind them, in turn, rounding out that side of Leon’s Kingdom. Representatives of the other peoples in his Kingdom attended, too, as did nearly all of the high-ranking bureaucrats in the capital.
Beside Leon stood his wives, and behind them were his Paladins. Some part of Leon had wanted to include them in this triumph, but neither Alix nor Anna had been involved, and Daryun and Zhang were both of the conquered people. Of their number, only Anzu marched with the returning army, leading the way through Artorion’s streets with the widest smile Leon had ever seen on his face as men and women—though seemingly mostly the latter—lavished him with thrown flowers and frequent kisses.
Of all of those who stood with Leon on the enormous ceremonial platform at one end of the forum, however, two captured most of his wandering interest: Archelaus and Miuna, both of whom had accepted his token invitation to participate, despite his expectation that they would refuse. They had taken positions a fair distance away from him where they could comfortably watch the ceremony without being drawn into it.
Of the two, Miuna drew more attention as she was but a shadow within her palanquin and was surrounded by a dozen gorgeous female attendants and a dozen more equally beautiful female guards. All were dressed in flowing robes that shimmered in the light of the Origin Spark, or armor that gleamed with inner light.
Archelaus, in contrast, was alone, even less elaborately dressed than Leon, and watching the proceedings with an almost disinterested grin. He was far more concerned with Miuna than anything else, a fact made clear by his close proximity to her palanquin despite her guards’ insistence otherwise. This was no coincidence, as even above the earth-shaking roar of Artorion, Leon could still hear the two sniping at each other without mercy.
“… and the Sardonis Incident!” Miuna vehemently said about as intensely as she could without wildly gesticulating.
“None of that was my fault,” Archelaus flatly responded, his grin not faltering in the slightest.
“Half a million people lived in those cities! All either killed or displaced by Storm Lords!”
“Then argue with those Storm Lords, not with me,” the Storm Lord Despot easily riposted.
“Do you feel no sense of kinship with your fellow Storm Lords?!” Miuna accused.
“No.”
“Then… you wouldn’t care if my Divine Father were to wipe them out?”
“You can try. You would be tangled up in Halbast and Kamran’s struggle in the east, though—the ocean those incidents took place in is far from here.”
Miuna sharply inhaled, likely to continue laying the blame for many conflicts between the Storm Lords and Ocean Lords at Archelaus’ feet, but Anzu led the first warriors into the forum just before she could give voice to her thoughts, and the noise in the forum became too great even for the two twelfth-tier mages to easily converse.
Leon had to admit that he was a little saddened by that; he’d enjoyed hearing of the history of the Storm Lands before his arrival. But duty came first, and he stood before his marching warriors with Royal pride.
It took some time for them to properly form up before him, and as they did so, Anzu inscribed the deeds of the armada upon an enormous granite slate running along the long side of the forum. Less than five percent of the slate was filled with these deeds, which Leon hoped would encourage his armies to greatness so that they might take up some space upon it in the future.
Thousands of people continued pouring into the forum, packing it as full as it could be. Men and giants stood side-by-side, pride and joy radiating from all of them in equal measure. Ulta pilots, ground forces, ark engineers all stood beside each other, irrespective of rank or position. Only those who had marched with Anzu would participate directly in this ceremony, anyway.
Once Anzu returned to position in front of the assembled mass of humanity and giants, the armada commanders flying above descended and began getting the crowds under control. Soon, the forum was calmed, an island of serenity amidst the crashing celebrations in the streets around them.
Leon called upon his magic to ensure that his words would reach every ear not just in the forum but also most of those in his capital city. Enchantments were already projecting the ceremony to all other forums in the city, but that wasn’t stopping his people from continuing their celebrations even as they listened to his words.
“Friends!” he declared, his voice like thunder. “Citizens! Our valiant heroes have returned victorious!”
He paused, and cheers went up around the city that even overpowered the other sounds of revelry.
“Everyone distinguished themselves during this campaign!” Leon continued after a few seconds. “Not only did they bring victory, they brought honor and glory to their families, Clans, Tribes, and cities! The pride I feel to have marched out with all of these brave warriors cannot be overstated! All should be honored as the heroes they are!”
Stomping and cheering followed as the Tribal Chiefs and elders led the crowd in punctuating Leon’s declaration with vocal approval.
When the noise died down, Leon pressed on. “Of all of our heroes, there are a select few that stand out amongst them! Let us first speak of Anzu, the commander of the scout fleet, who took extraordinary risks upon himself to see this campaign through, and who performed his duties admirably!”
Leon waved for his brother to come forward, and Anzu did, to the cheering and stomping of the crowd. He’d dressed in the silver and blue dress uniform of Leon’s central army, and when he stopped before Leon, such joy had manifested upon his milk-white face that it was practically beaming as brightly as the Origin Spark.
In a softer voice that only they and those immediately around Leon could hear, Leon said, “I could not be prouder of you, Anzu, my friend, my brother. You’ve earned far more than this, but at least it’s a start.”
Leon pinned an Aurichalcum medallion to Anzu’s chest that shone like a star. It had no special enchantments other than what it needed to stay clean and intact, but it would act as a visual indicator of the glory that Anzu had covered himself in during the campaign.
“Thank you,” Anzu said, few additional words able to squeeze past his smile.
Leon clasped arms with him, and then Anzu stepped down from the platform. After him, Leon called several dozen others, including six giants, and pinned other medals to their chests, too, publicly honoring them for their actions during his campaign. Warriors who had led charges or been the first through breaches in the defenses of large cities, pilots who had inflicted enormous damage upon their enemy, and more.
Of those Leon honored, however, one was absent who he thought should’ve been there: Clear Day, whose efforts had done more for his campaign than just about anyone else’s. The tau had chosen to simply watch the ceremony from the mountains, however, citing a desire for a bit of privacy after all the negotiations he’d had to endure these past couple years. Leon was only too happy to give him his space.
Once that was over, Leon announced additional rewards and medals for the entire armada, as well as a bonus to their pay. The five fleets that accompanied him on the campaign would forever wear the ribbons and honors of their success, reminding all of the beginning of the legacy they were building. Leon would’ve added more, especially to the crews of his ancient arks, but Anshu had disagreed, preferring to give the rest of the force their time to shine. He’d instead chosen to spend the ceremony upon Storm Herald with Red at his side.
When all that was over, Leon, not one to make long speeches, dismissed his warriors to join the celebrations. They’d certainly earned the time off.
---
“A short ceremony,” Archelaus said as Leon led him back into the palace. The celebrations were planned to spread onto Westmount too, but they were mostly contained to the lower terraces. Miuna and Archelaus had expressed a desire to get away from all the people, so Leon had decided to accompany them back.
“Too short?” Leon asked.
“Delightfully so,” Archelaus promptly replied. “Many in your position would’ve spoken for hours and hours. Mages who’ve achieved Apotheosis have plenty of time, but some seem too eager to spend it yapping away.”
“Do you not think there was more to say?” Miuna asked as she, her attendants, and Leon’s wives followed them into the entrance hall of the palace’s more private terraces. “What glories have you won recently to be so critical?”
Ignoring her completely, Archelaus continued, “I spoke with Basileus Ramin just before the ceremony began. He’s already leading many to the plane of Fum. He’s eager to meet you, as are many traveling with him.”
“Any I should watch out for?” Leon asked as Miuna snapped her fingers, stopping her attendants from bearing her palanquin further into the palace.
“Strategos Ryazos,” Archelaus immediately identified. “A warrior through and through, and one of the few Strategoi sworn directly to Basileus Ramin instead of to a Despot. Basileus Ramin also indicated that Basileus N’chezzar may join him.”
“The Mad Dog of Lortinios?” Miuna exclaimed. “The Despoiler of Cities? Beholder of Ruin? The Bolt That Cleaves the Waves?!”
“You’re a fan of his, I see,” Archelaus quipped.
“Doesn’t sound much like a man to be a fan of,” Elise added with a teasing grin.
“I’m not!” Miuna declared, sounding as affronted as Leon had ever heard her be. “My Divine Father long had a bounty on that ingrate’s head! Whoever brought it in would receive ten thousand times their body weight in Aurichalcum!”
“A Princely fortune,” Cassandra observed. “What deserved it?”
“Wars in the north,” Archelaus immediately cut in. “Basileus N’chezzar won many against the Ocean Lords. His stalwart defense of the north against Ocean Lord aggression was made legendary out here in the west. I’d wager even those Storm Lords more concerned with the eastern conflict between the Anakes even know his name.”
His description wasn’t appreciated by Miuna, as she immediately responded, “You say ‘defense’, but he brutally sacked many cities and islands in the Kiporis Ocean! You say my Ocean Lords were the aggressors, but how far beyond the coast did they get?!”
“Not that far, thanks to the honorable N’chezzar,” Archelaus said with the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
“What have you to say about Basileus Aeschylus, then?” she demanded. “Or vos Utricht? Markorios?!”
“Great warriors who kept the depravities and provocations from the lands of other Elemental Kings from reaching into the Storm Lands.” Miuna squawked in protest, but Archelaus pushed on, only speaking over her. “We had many problems this far west, Leon, but not every region suffered as much as the Far West did in the absence of a strong Storm King.”
“The barbarities they brought into other lands is unconscionable!” Miuna shouted.
“So you say, yet you fail to mention that none of those conflicts were started by Storm Lords.”
“May all those you consider heroes ever have lungs full of seawater,” Miuna growled.
“I consider Leon here to be a hero of the Storm Lands,” Archelaus stated.
“Leon’s conduct was admirable. He did not sack cities, enslave or displace their populations, or make off with all their movable wealth.”
Leon blinked, suddenly not wanting to dip his toe into that quagmire. However, some of what Miuna said still resonated with him.
“Enslavement?” he whispered, a few black sparks momentarily dancing through his slightly curled fingers. “I’m given to understand that this abominable practice isn’t widespread within the Storm Lands.”
“Few practice it within the Nexus given the general higher degree of magical ability the population has, and the consequential difficulty in managing that population,” Archelaus said. “But out in the planes? Hmm, it’s hard to put a figure to it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a tenth of all humanity ruled by someone in the Nexus is in chains. Ocean Lords included.”
Miuna huffed and didn’t respond, telling Leon all he needed to know about her side’s perpetuating the practice.
“You disapprove?” Archelaus asked.
Leon stared at him seriously, his golden eyes darkening slightly as his gaze became as sharp as Iron Pride. “Yes,” he said, offering no further elaboration.
“Understandable,” Archelaus said without argument.
For a long moment, Leon contemplated asking his fellow Despot for his opinion on it, but a quick look around the entrance hall stilled his tongue. This wasn’t the time or place—and he wasn’t sure anywhere or anytime was the right time or place—so he just silently pressed on, escorting his two important guests back to their apartments. But silently, he wondered how easily it would be to stamp out such practices in the planes. As the Storm King, he ought to have the authority, but it might make him enemies. Not all Storm Lords would answer to the Storm King, just as Kamran apparently had allies and vassals from other Elemental Lands.
Any kind of dissent might put cracks in his support base. Still, he thought this was a fight worth fighting, but he also steeled himself for potentially seeing disagreeable things on Belicenion—more than he’d already prepared himself for, at any rate. Slavery was a stain on his Clan’s honor, one that he was eager to clean.
When he reached Archelaus’ room, he finally found his tongue and asked the man a few more questions about the specific route they’d take to reach Belicenion, and found that conversation to be far more encouraging. It would take no more than a week’s travel to rendezvous with Basileus Ramin, and then only one week more to reach Khosrow’s Fane. From there, three days of travel would take them to Belicenion, even with the potential traffic.
The distances involved gave Leon some pause until Archelaus further explained the many spatial gates and other enchantments that would be used for travel, and whereas Leon was quite dour and serious when they reached Archelaus’ quarters, he was far more chipper and excited when he left. He met up with his wives as they finished escorting Miuna back to her chambers, and made his way down to join the revels almost with a spring in his step as he thought about just what sort of magic he would witness in the next few months.
It would be an experience he’d never forget, he was sure…
---
---
Thank you to my Apotheosis-tier patrons!
Ari Noordermeer – McVerisimilitude – Easyreader – Scarab6 – Caleb Michael Mills – A.M.R. – Laggmonkei – Stretchheart – CWMA – Tae - helvetica - Murigi - DJ9warren - Gabe9230 - Caleb - Johnny - Matthew Schultz - Divine univers - Paul Whatever - Kenneth House - Dr. Pine - Isaac T. - Zachary W Jensen - Zach Atchinson - Heretic Turtle - Na U good - Chris Prevou
Comments
Warden
I just edited those parts slightly for clarity. The 'four planes' part referred to the last part of the campaign where Leon gained the Yun Cluster and the Umbral plane. The 'thirteen planes' referred to the entire campaign, including the nine planes of the Demetrion Cluster. Thanks! =)
Specter
Thank you! Maybe I'm confused, but in the beginning of the chapter, it says "adding four more planes to Leon’s Kingdom" "Thirteen entire planes had been added to his Kingdom" Should one of these be clusters? Pardon me if I'm mixing up details or not understanding.
Luke Charles
Feels like the storm lord would have little reason to conquer the ocean. But the ocean would be down to conquer shores.
